Without You
by ToHandCraftedBeers
Summary: What would Joanne do without Maureen? MoJo. Chapter 5 up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first Rent fanfic, so I hope you like it. If I get enough positive reviews, this might turn into a multi chapter story, so yeah. Tell me what you think and if I should continue.

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Maureen sat on the couch, twirling her hair around her finger, watching her girlfriend type feverishly at her computer. This was how Maureen spent many of her nights. Pretending to watch TV, but really watching Joanne. She'd pray for her to get up just once, and pay attention to her. However, Joanne never even got up to do as much as get a glass of water- she left that to Maureen, who didn't exactly mind performing the task. At least it gave her something to do. She would then return to her post and sigh, over dramatically of course, and resume her hair twisting.

"Pookie..." the diva whined, examining the hair wrapped around her finger, like a vine wrapped around a tree.

Joanne sighed, and turned around on her chair to face her miserable lover. "Honey, I told you, I have a lot of work to do. The more you distract me the longer it'll take."

Maureen groaned. She was definitely an excellent actress,Joanne would give her that. The pained look on her face completely resembled that of a person who had been struck by a car. "How much longer can it possibly take?" the drama queen whined.

"Maureen _please_," Joanne muttered, massaging her temples, "not tonight."

"Honeybear just take a break," Maureen pleaded, walking over to the lawyer and putting her hands on her shoulders. "Just sit down and watch TV for half an hour. Then you can return to your amazingly interesting work." She added the last sentiment with a roll of the eyes.

Joanne shook her head. She'd much rather spend time with Maureen- that was no contest; but work was a priority, a necessity. Without it, she and Maureen would be living in the loft with Roger and Mark. She knew this, but it still broke her heart to see her stare at the television for hours, watching the same reruns of the same shows over and over again. It broke her heart even more that Maureen laughed at the jokes every time, as if it was the first time she heard them.

"Just go to bed Maureen," Joanne told her, "I'll join you later."

Maureen whined something about not being tired and not wanting to go to sleep without her and why can't she have a "funner" job that didn't take up her time; most of which Joanne blocked out with the sound of rapidly tapping computer keys. Finally, a very agitated Maureen agreed to go and change into her pajamas. After finishing just that, she was back in the room.

Joanne held her head in her hands, frustration filling her. "What _now_ Maureen?" she demanded.

Maureen put on her wounded puppy face, and shuffled over to the fuming lawyer, her fuzzy cow slippers rubbing against the carpet. "I just wanted a kiss goodnight..." she muttered in her most innocent voice.

Joanne looked into Maureen's eyes as they filled with crocodile tears (Maureen could cry on command, a fact Joanne had learned early in the relationship) and apologized for accusing her in such a way. She kissed Maureen softly on the lips, said goodnight, and then sent her off to bed.

"I love you," Maureen whispered, disappointed, before trudging back to their room. She had hoped that when her girlfriend saw her in the tank top and shorts she wore to bed, the workaholic's decision would be swayed. Unfortunately for Maureen, however, it proved to have no effect on Joanne, who simply dived back into her work.

It wasn't until five minutes later that Joanne realized she'd forgotten to say, "I love you too."

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The next morning, Joanne awoke in front of her computer, curled up in a rather uncomfortable position in her chair. She stood slowly, and felt as if her joints had been locked in one position for hundreds of years, instead of only a few hours. Then she remembered work. She glanced quickly at her watch and groaned. She was running late.

With no time to waste, she walked quickly but quietly down the hallway to the bedroom, not wanting to wake Maureen. She'd have to put up with more noise than she was in the mood for if she woke her.

Upon entering the bedroom, she found her girlfriend wrapped up in the down comforter, shivering like mad. She considered getting the poor thing a sweater, or another blanket, but then noticed the time, and decided against it. Maureen would be up in an hour or two anyway. She was completely capable of getting a blanket herself.

With a black suit in hand, Joanne left the room as quietly as she had entered, and went to get a shower. She had taken showers at night her entire life, then she moved in with Maureen, who took unnecessarily long showers, leaving the next person with little to no hot water. She had tried to persuade Maureen to switch to morning showers, but the drama queen had gone off onto a tangent about how it would, "totally throw her off balance," so Joanne had grudgingly agreed to switch instead.

Today however, she ended up taking a cold shower anyway, hoping it would help her to take less time. She used up the last of the shampoo (she'd have to remember to pick some up on the way home for Maureen), more of which got in her eyes rather than her hair. She didn't bother trying to rinse it out though, that could be done at the office. Instead, quickly she got dressed, still half soaked, and grabbed her coat, running out the door just in time.

Making her way down the steps of her apartment complex, Joanne worked through her schedule in her head, and decided that she had enough time to set aside for a short lunch with Maureen. She shook her head, as it occurred to her that she should've left a note for Maureen, so she'd know not to go out anywhere else. "Oh well," Joanne said to herself, walking out onto the sidewalk, "I'll just call her before lunch."

It didn't take Joanne very long at all to get a cab, and she got to the office in record time. "Maybe today won't be so bad after all, " she decided as she walked into work right on time. She grabbed a cup of coffee and made her way to her office, already excited for lunch.

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A few hours later, the phone rang in Joanne's office.

This was not an unusual occurrence. She got phone calls all the time. Phone calls telling her she had a meeting, calls telling her a meeting was canceled, calls from her mother, calls from her father, calls from Maureen. She got calls from just about everyone.

She glanced at the clock before answering the phone. One thirty. She had worked through lunch. It was probably Maureen.

"Hello?" she answered, scribbling some things down on to her "to-do" list, and preparing a list of reasons why she hadn't left a note or called about lunch.

"Hi, this is Dr. Ambuster from St. Mary's Hospital, is this Joanne Jefferson speaking?" a man with a deep, scratchy voice asked.

The hospital. Joanne's great aunt probably had another stroke. Poor woman. "Yes, this is Joanne."

"Are you familiar with anyone by the name of Maureen Johnson?" the man asked.

Her heart stopped.

_MAUREEN!_

What was wrong with her pookie, her honeybear, her lover, her angel, her baby?

"Miss Jefferson?"

"Y-yes, I know her. She's my girlfriend. We...we live together. What happened?" She let a sigh of relief as her head cleared, realizing Maureen must be conscious if she told them to call her.

"Maureen was involved in a car accident earlier this morning. She was hit by a drunk driver going through a red light."

Relief fell over Joanne. "That's not my Maureen sir," she replied, "we don't have a car."

"She was in a taxi cab. She's currently unconscious, but the driver isn't. He said he was driving Maureen to your office, around lunch time."

_She's currently unconscious._ Joanne's blood ran cold, her head pounded, her pulse rushed. Maureen had been coming to see her for lunch. Why hadn't she called?

_Because you were too wrapped up in your work._

"How'd you get my number?" she demanded. She refused to believe this. This was some prank that Maureen was pulling. "Dr. Ambuster" was probably Collins.

"Maureen had a business card for your law firm in her wallet. There was a circle around your name and number. On the back it said, 'Pookie's work number.'"

Joanne fought tears.

"Is...is she going to be okay?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Dr. Ambuster?"

"I think you better come down here, " the doctor answered, "Soon."

Joanne was out of her office in a second.

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No more than five minutes later, Joanne burst through the doors of St. Mary's Hospital, and ran up to the reception desk, where a blonde woman in her 20s or 30s was sitting, filing her nails.

"My name is Joanne Jefferson," she told the receptionist, out of breath, "Dr. Ambuster called me, telling me that my girlfriend Maureen Johnson was in a car crash, and that I should come down here."

The receptionist nodded and paged the doctor, and Joanne took a seat in the waiting area, fidgeting more than a three year old on a car trip.

"Miss Jefferson?"

Joanne looked up to see a man with a thick, brown beard and sad eyes looking at her. Dr. Ambuster. He wasn't Collins. This wasn't a joke.

Joanne stood up and walked over to him. Something wasn't right. He wouldn't look her right in the eyes. He looked pained. Her heart pounded. She would've liked to say she was ready for the worst, but she wasn't ready at all.

"We lost her," he whispered, "just two minutes ago."

Joanne's heart stopped.

He offered to take her to Maureen's room, so she could see her deceased lover, and she agreed.

The halls were haunted with Maureen's voice. She could hear her, clearly as if she was standing right next to her.

_Pookie..._

Why hadn't she stopped working last night? Why didn't she watch just one last half hour of television with her diva?

_I just wanted a kiss goodnight..._

Why hadn't she kissed Maureen like she meant it? Why hadn't she gotten off her stupid ass and gone to bed with her? Why hadn't she held her one last time?

_I love you._

Why, why in the name of God had she not said, "I love you too"? Four lousy words that try to sum up everything she felt for Maureen. Why hadn't she taken two seconds out of her busy schedule to say those four words, so Maureen could hear them just one last time? Had Maureen left this world not knowing whether Joanne truly loved her or not? It ate her soul just to think that.

Dr. Ambuster opened the door to what she assumed was Maureen's room, and let her in.

And there she was.

Except, it wasn't her.

Well, of course it was her, but it wasn't _her_. It was her body, the shell she was kept in, but her soul was gone, the whole air about her that made her Maureen Johnson, her lively spirit that made Joanne fall hard and fast for her. Vanished. She looked so peaceful. Like she was asleep.

She remembered seeing Maureen asleep that morning. Shivering. It was the last time Joanne had seen her lover alive.

Why hadn't she gotten her a blanket?

She could've been late, just once. Maureen was worth being late for.

Why did she have to be such a perfectionist?

She sat down next to Maureen, and held her hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks, sobs escaped her chest, her whole person shook with grief. Maureen was gone. She wasn't coming back.

Joanne bawled. She ran her hand through Maureen's hair, down her face, and bawled. She squeezed Maureen's lifeless hand and bawled. "Maureen..." she choked through sobs.

She'd give anything, _anything_ for one more day, one more hour, one more minute, one last kiss, with Maureen. One more "I love you."

Dr. Ambuster walked in.

"Joanne?" he whispered, sounding concerned. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Joanne, are you okay?" he pressed.

Was she okay? Why in the world would she be okay?

"Joanne, answer me, " he persisted.

As he continued, the room around her started to blacken. Dr. Ambuster's voice started to get higher, smoother, sweeter.

Suddenly, it was pitch black.

Where was she?

Had she passed out?

"Joanne..."

Was that him? No...this voice wasn't one that belonged to a man. She knew it, though. She definitely knew it.

Her eyes started to adjust. She saw the outline of a face. A woman's face. The woman was on top of her. She kind of looked like...

"Pookie?"

Joanne blinked about twenty times.

"Maureen?" she finally whispered.

It couldn't be. Maureen was dead. She had just seen her.

"Are you ok?" Maureen asked.

Joanne stared at her for a few seconds. Had she died too? Did she have a heart attack?

"Where...where are we Maureen?" Joanne finally asked.

Maureen ran a hand through Joanne's hair, and even in the dark, Joanne could see a concerned look in her eyes. "Our bedroom," she whispered, "where else would we be?"

Joanne couldn't understand what was going on. She had held Maureen's dead hand, ran her hand through her dead hair. Now Maureen was here, on top of her. Talking.

"What happened Maureen?" she asked, running her hands through Maureen's curls.

"I woke up," Maureen replied, "and you were crying. You were saying my name. I didn't know what was wrong."

Tears rolled down Joanne's face. It had been a dream. An obnoxiously vivid one, but a dream all the same. Joanne kissed Maureen. She kissed her with passion, with meaning, with love.

"I love you Maureen," she whispered.

Maureen smiled. "I love you too."

"Let's go out today," Joanne whispered in Maureen's ear, "We'll go shopping, and out to eat too."

Maureen looked at her. "Don't you have to go to work?" she asked.

Joanne shook her head. "Not today baby," she whispered, "not today."


	2. Chapter 2

-1A/N: Yeah sorry I waited so long to update...but I kinda forgot. This chapter's shorter too...sorry, but I thought I had a good place to stop.

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After that horrible experience, Joanne thought she would never take Maureen for granted again.

She was very wrong.

Yes, the two went out that day. Yes, they had a great time. Yes, Joanne told Maureen she loved her a few more times than really necessary. Yes, they had a wonderful weekend. But by Monday, it was like nothing had happened.

It was the same situation they had come across Thursday night. Joanne was at the computer, and Maureen was on the couch. Except this time, Maureen's whining was more persistent. Finally, Joanne snapped.

"Maureen, please," she pleaded, ready to pull her hair out of her head, "go somewhere. Anywhere. I just need peace and quiet."

"Like _where_?" Maureen whined.

"I don't know. Call Mark. See if they're doing anything tonight."

Maureen made a face and groaned. "But I want to spend time with _you_ not _them_."

Joanne tapped her fingers on her desk in thought. "Well, how bout I make you a deal."

Maureen lifted her head, hoping it would be something that involved her and Joanne doing something together. "Ok."

Joanne bit her thumb nail a little. She did that when she was thinking. "Be home by eleven," she said, "and I'm all yours."

Maureen's face lit up with a smile. "And I can do whatever I want with you?"

Joanne smiled. "Whatever you want."

"Deal."

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Two in the morning. Joanne was still at her computer. Angry. Very angry.

Maureen had wound up going to the Life Café with the rest of the crew. She had left around 8, and had failed to return home.

Joanne had opted not to call the Life and see if she was there figuring Maureen would be terribly embarrassed. She had more consideration on that part than her girlfriend did, who felt free to call her at anytime she was at work. Maureen had a habit of "borrowing" Joanne's phone when she wasn't around and...altering some of the settings. For example, once the drama queen had made it so that when she called the phone, the ring tone would be a recording of her declaring, "Pookie! It's Maureen, your sex slave! Answer the phone!"

It had rung like that during a meeting. Joanne ran out of the room, red in the face, and had quite a long conversation with Maureen about "acceptable behavior."

She guessed she would be having this conversation with her again. Coming home at two AM when you promised to come home at eleven is not "acceptable behavior."

Joanne shook her head, and was about to call it a night when she heard a knock on the door.

Joanne froze. Who would be coming here this late? Maureen had a key.

Had something happened to Maureen?

Memories of that horrible dream came back to her, as she blinked tears from her eyes. Was this a dream too? Was it for real this time? Had Maureen forgotten her key?

Joanne stood up, and opened the door. Behind it was Collins, cradling her beloved Maureen in his arms. Passed out.

"She um.." Collins started. He didn't know how to explain to Joanne why her girlfriend had let her down once again, "She got into a drinking contest. With Roger. She won."

Joanne was fuming. She couldn't care less whether or not Maureen had beaten Roger.

"She stumbled off afterwards...we figured to the bathroom, or home, or whatever. Then hours later we found her under the table, passed out. Too much to drink. She'll be fine in the morning, though. She used to do this all the time."

He gave Joanne a weak smile, before trading Maureen over to her. He bid her goodnight, and closed the door behind him, leaving Joanne standing there, dumbfounded, with Maureen in her arms.

Joanne took Maureen back to their room, lying her down on the bed, and shaking her head. This was the last straw. Joanne wanted to settle down soon, to have a family. She thought Maureen was the one, but she supposed she was wrong. The diva was too...well, immature. And unless she made a drastic change, then Joanne was going to have to find someone else. Someone more dependable.

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Maureen woke the next morning with a massive hangover. Her head throbbed with every move she made, and she was allover sore. She didn't even remember coming home last night. Had she come home last night? Did her and Joanne do anything? She wished for the life of her that she could remember. All she could recall was walking into the Café, and Roger challenging her to a drinking contest and...o yeah.

She hadn't come home last night.

She turned her pounding head, half hoping to see Joanne, but finding no one.

She stumbled out of the room, tripping over herself. "Pookie..." she whined. Upon entering the living room, she saw Joanne at her damned computer, and two packed bags at the door. "Honey are we going somewhere?" she asked.

"You are, " Joanne replied, not looking up.

Maureen was confused, and the hangover wasn't helping. "Going where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care really. As long as you're out of here." Joanne had turned around in her seat now to face Maureen.

Things started to click. "Honey please, it wasn't that big a deal," she protested, "Just give me one more chance."

Joanne sighed. "Maureen," she started, "you know I love you."

"Then what's the issue?" she begged.

"You're not serious enough. You're immature and irresponsible," Maureen looked hurt, but Joanne continued, "Maureen, I want to have kids some day."

"I do too!" Maureen shot back, "We could have kids together! We could adopt!"

Joanne shook her head, "If I had kids with you, then who would help me take care of them? Obviously not you, Maureen. You can't even take care of yourself."

Maureen was hurt. Joanne couldn't possibly mean this. She wasn't _that_ irresponsible, was she?

"So," Joanne continued, picking up the bags and handing them to Maureen, "it's over. Maybe we can talk again when you've grown up."

Maureen didn't even bother arguing. She knew when Joanne had made up her mind. So she held her head high and left her key to the apartment on the table. And with that, she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry that this took like forever, but I have school and junk. Summer's coming, so updates should be quicker. Hope peoples are still reading. And if you read, please have the decency to review, k? kk.

Maureen may have left Joanne's apartment with her dignity, but she sure didn't walk out into New York with it. She put her bags down at the first bench she saw, and sat with her head in her hands, putting forth her best effort not to cry.

She felt disgusting because she hadn't showered, she could still smell and taste alcohol on her breath, she was hung over like all hell, she didn't have a place to stay, and to top it all off, she didn't even have a girlfriend to make it all better. The only time that she could remember feeling worse was Angel's funeral.

Maureen sat on the bench for a while, analyzing the situation

Joanne was mad at her. They'd broken up, and this fight would take slightly more than a pout to fix. Joanne had accused her of being an incompetent for the role of her future wife. She had called her immature and irresponsible.

Joanne said that she couldn't take care of herself.

Joanne was getting ready to settle down, find a life partner, have a family. Was that what Maureen wanted? Was she ready to commit herself to one relationship for the rest of her life? And if so, did she want her life partner to be the workaholic lawyer Joanne Jefferson?

Maureen didn't even have to consider the question. The answer was yes, and would never change. Maureen had been in tons of relationships in her life, but never had she been involved with someone who made her feel the way Joanne did.

Still, she knew that she'd have to make some drastic change in her behavior to win Joanne back. Joanne wanted responsibility. How could Maureen prove that she was responsible?

The answer rang loud and clear in Maureen's mind, but she tried desperately to push it away. She couldn't avoid it, yet she was unreasonably afraid of it.

Get a job.

But where? Maureen hadn't exactly finished college. Her boyfriend at the time, Mark, had convinced her to drop out in Sophomore year to live the life of a starving artist. He told her between his films and Roger's songs, they would make it big.

That was the only time Maureen could ever remember Mark lying to her.

Still, Maureen knew she had to do it. It was the only way she could prove to Joanne that she was responsible. Joanne was always on her about what was she going to put forth, how was she going to help out, what did she do with herself while she was home alone. She knew Joanne was afraid that she was out getting drunk, or worse, getting laid, when she was home alone.

Overall, Joanne said living with Maureen was more like living with her daughter rather than her girlfriend.

Sure, there were plenty of places where a 25 year old woman who hadn't finished college could work. McDonald's, Starbuck's, Taco Bell. But those were the kind of jobs that teenagers looking for a quick buck would take. Mimi of course would suggest the Cat Scratch Club, but Maureen wasn't so sure if that's what Joanne meant by "responsible".

She decided that she'd hang out at the loft until she could find a place to stay, and she would start job searching tomorrow. She had about two hundred dollars of emergency money to her name, which might be enough to pay for the first rent or so, but she didn't want to commit herself to an apartment before she knew she could pay. Yes, she could squat like Roger and Mark, but that wasn't very responsible either.

Her mind made up, Maureen picked up her bags and made her way over to Avenue A.

The door was opened when she got to the loft, so she invited herself in. On the other side of the door, she found the four of them, Roger, Mimi, Mark, and Collins, gathered around the coffee table playing poker with the cards Mark had bought for Christmas last year.

"Well, well, well," Roger said, grinning, "Look who we have here. Last night's contest winner."

Maureen could've cried. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of the fact that Joanne had left her, especially over that ridiculous contest.

Instead of breaking down however, she switched both bags over to one hand, flipped Roger off with her free one, and headed for Benny's old bedroom, the only unoccupied one.

Roger laughed. "Sorry Mo, didn't Collins tell you?" he shouted after her, "We're renting out the spare room to a chick named Hannah."

Maureen kicked the door open, and shouted a "fuck you" at Roger. Hannah was Joanne's ex girlfriend's name.

The room was like she remembered. A twin bed stood in the middle of the room, looking barren and ghostly due to its lack of sheets and pillows. Other than that, it was empty. She tossed hr bags on the bed, and then went back out to the main room. She wouldn't bother unpacking. First of all, she had no where to put her stuff. Second, she'd be out of here soon.

As Maureen walked back out, Mimi patted the spot on the couch next to her. "How'd it go down Maureen-chica?"

Maureen sighed as she sat down. Maternal instincts taking over, Mimi wrapped an arm around Maureen's shoulders, who in turn rested her head on Mimi's, silent tears sliding down her face.

_Just perfect. _Maureen thought to herself. _Go on and cry your eyes out right in front of everyone. _

But no one said anything. Mimi just took her thumb and wiped the tears away while Maureen looked up at her with sad eyes.

"Venido chica," Mimi said, standing up and holding her hand out to Maureen, "Vayamos a mi sitio." Mimi sometimes defaulted to Spanish when she was upset in someway, whether she was concerned, angry, or scared.

Maureen nodded, standing up. She didn't understand much Spanish, but between what she remembered from school, and the hand gestures from Mimi, she knew she was saying something along the lines of, "let's go to my room." Maureen figured she probably just wanted to talk away from the guys. Considerate on Mimi's part.

Roger had a puzzled look on his face, being that the only thing he knew how to say in Spanish was probably the numbers one through ten, but got the idea when the two started walking off to Mimi's room.

"Hey!" Roger shouted after them, "If you have something to say, why can't you say it en el here-o?"

Mimi rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's pathetic attempt at the language, and Collins told him to give it a rest.

Mimi closed the door behind her, and they both sat down on her and Roger's bed cross legged, facing one another.

"Ok chica," Mimi started, taking Maureen's hand in hers, "tell me all about it."

And so she did. She told her about waking up with a hangover, and not remembering how she got home (Mimi later filled her in on how Collins had carried her back to her apartment), she told her about finding her bags packed, and about Joanne calling her too irresponsible. She finished her story by telling her about her need for a job, how it was necessary if she ever wanted to be with Joanne again.

The whole while, Mimi just listened, nodding and squeezing her hand at times, but overall just listening. It wasn't until Maureen was completely finished that she spoke.

"I can help you find a job," she offered.

Maureen smiled, "Thanks for offering, but I think I have to do this myself, if you know what I mean."

Mimi nodded, "I know exactly what you mean." Then she hugged Maureen, and for that brief moment, she felt loved again.

"Come on chica," Mimi said, pulling her up off the bed, "relax for a little while, have some fun."

Maureen shook her head, "I think I'm gonna just go to sleep, my head's still killing me."

Mimi nodded, and let Maureen go off to her room, this time with no snide remarks from Roger. Once inside, she locked her door, before going over to her bags to find out exactly what Joanne had packed for her.

She tossed aside shirts, three pairs of jeans, undergarments, socks, then she stumbled across something that made her eyes well up with tears. The bear Joanne had bought for Maureen for their three year anniversary, just months ago. She shoved clothes back in her bags, but left out her large winter coat to use as a blanket.

She curled up on the barren mattress, strangling the stuffed animal in her grasp, shivering under the jacket. She thought about how much warmer she'd be if Joanne was here, if she were wrapped up in her arms. And that was all it took. She broke down, and cried -no, sobbed- herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

-1A/N: Sorry the updates are taking so long, but I'm very lazy. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner though, I promise. Oh, and if you want translations for the Spanish, just tell me ).

Maureen left the apartment the next morning before anyone woke up. She figured she'd go to some diner, have a cup of coffee, and look through the classifieds of the local paper. She knew there wasn't much chance of finding a well paying job with her level of education, but there was always hope.

She had only made it three blocks out of the apartment before it started to rain. She contemplated going back to the loft to see if Joanne had packed her a raincoat, but decided against it. It was just water. She bathed in water. She drank water. It wasn't going to hurt her.

As Maureen made her way to the diner, her attitude towards the weather shifted slightly. The drizzle turned to a steady rain, the steady rain to a downpour. Her new shoes were soaked. Her curls were plastered to her face. She was amazingly thankful for the fact that she'd chosen to wear her black shirt today instead of her white one. She was in no mood for a wet T-shirt contest.

By the time she reached the diner, she looked like she had been pushed into a pool with all her clothes on. She stood outside for a few minutes, ringing her hair and clothes out. It didn't help much, but at least she wasn't dripping anymore. Well, at least not a lot.

She walked in, receiving odd looks from the customers there. She heard one man who looked like he was wearing a toupee muttering how disgraceful it was to walk into a public place like that, and she should know how to dress appropriately for the weather. If it weren't for the presence of children, she'd flip them off. Instead she flashed the man a smile and continued walking, swaying her hips maybe a little too much.

The waitress who was seating smiled at her, and grabbed her a menu. She was about Maureen's age, and didn't look like she was raking it in herself.

"Bad day?" she asked.

"The worst," Maureen replied. She pointed to the stack of newspapers by the check out desk. "Mind if I take one?" she asked, "I'll try not to soak it too much."

"Of course," the waitress said with a smile. She led Maureen to a table that was more or less away from all the glaring well-to-do customers, and left to get her a cup of coffee.

Maureen picked up the paper, and looked at it for a while, completely perplexed at where to begin. She didn't think she'd ever read a newspaper in her life, save the comics and the crossword puzzles.

After about five minutes, Maureen had managed to not only to find the classifieds, but to completely mangle the paper, with sections strewn across the table, and ink running from places that had been so much as brushed by her wet fingers or dripping hair. Not only that, but she managed to find all of one job that would accept someone with her level of education; a position at the JC Penny's where she and Joanne used to shop.

Maureen spent the next fifteen minutes trying to piece the newspaper back together, all the while collecting more odd stares than she already had. When she finished, it looked anything but as good as new, but at least everything was more or less in the right spot. Almost. She left a tip under her coffee cup, thanked the waitress, and made her way out of the restaurant, and back into the pouring rain. It had let up when she was inside, but started again only a few seconds before she left. She shook her head at her luck, and made her way back to the loft.

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"So you're not going to stay?" Mimi asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, watching Maureen change into dry clothes, and shivering all the while.

"I can't," Maureen answered, pulling a coat out of one her bags and draping it over Mimi's shaking shoulders. "I have to prove that I can take care of myself. Living here and letting you guys pay for my rent won't exactly help my cause." She glanced at Mimi, who was lying down on the bed now, looking up at the ceiling. "You understand, don't you?"

She let out a deep sigh. "I guess."

Maureen smiled and went back to the pair of pants she was folding.

"I wanted to help," Mimi whispered about a minute later.

Maureen looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"

Mimi sat up, still not looking at Maureen. "When I was sick, you found me. You brought me back to Roger. You helped me," she muttered, embarrassed, "I never really...thanked you for it. I thought if I could help you back to Joanne..."

"Mimi," Maureen cut her off, "You were _dying_."

"So are you."

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Maureen eventually gave in. Twenty minutes of Mimi pestering her in a foreign language was more than enough to change her mind. The only condition was that Maureen insisted to help pay for rent and food, which the others weren't opposed to.

"Don't think of it as slacking," Mimi had assured her, "Consider it an intelligent career move. I mean, it's less expensive than paying for your own apartment."

She had landed the job at Penny's, which ended up being one of those annoying women who sprays perfume in the faces of flustered customers who just want to buy some sheets. Usually, Maureen would love to get paid to make people uncomfortable, if it weren't for the fact that the smell of perfume gave her a headache. She was getting paid though, and she supposed that was all that really mattered.

However, Maureen was extremely impatient. Sure, she made money, but not quite enough money to buy what she currently had her eye on. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to find a higher paying job, she opted to just work a second one.

One morning, about two weeks after Maureen moved in, Mimi found her tearing up the classifieds at the kitchen table.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting in the seat across from her.

"Looking for a job," Maureen replied, squinting at the tiny print.

Mimi looked confused. "Did you get fired honey?"

Maureen shook her head, turning the page.

"Did you quit then? Did the fumes get to be too much?"

"I didn't lose my job, Mimi." Maureen replied, annoyed, "I just...want another one."

Mimi looked amused, "One wasn't good enough, babe?"

Maureen forced a smile, "Actually, no, it wasn't."

Mimi nodded, and watched her for a while, twisting her hair around her finger. It reminded Maureen of how she used to watch Joanne.

"Well..." Mimi started after about five minutes, "I know a place that's looking to hire..."

"Where?" Maureen asked, glancing up for only a second.

"I don't think they want people who are unenthusiastic, Maureen"

Now Maureen looked confused. "Since when have you _ever_ seen me unenthused?"

"Right now."

Maureen rolled her eyes, and let out an obviously overdramatic sigh, before putting on a bright smile. "A job? Where Mimi, where is this wonderful job?"

Mimi laughed, "That's more like it."

"But seriously Mimi, where's the job?"

"The bar at the Cat Scratch Club," she said, looking thrilled with the notion.

"Hell no." Maureen replied, shaking her head and resuming her search.

"Come on," Mimi whined, "It'll be fun!"

"Define fun."

"Come on Maureen!" Mimi begged, giving her puppy dog eyes.

"No. You're not going to use those on me. I _taught _you that."

"If you don't, I will speak only Spanish until you move out," Mimi persisted.

"You wouldn't."

"¿Usted desea apostar a chica?" Mimi asked, a sly grin across her lips.

Maureen groaned. "You win."

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"Despierte a chica!"

Maureen groaned, having had another sleepless night, and pulled a pillow over her face. There was only one alarm clock in the loft, and that was in Mimi and Roger's room, so Mimi took it upon herself to be the alarm clock for everyone else in the apartment.

In Spanish.

"Levántese," Mimi urged, pulling on her hand. Maureen moaned. She was not in the mood for Spanish. She didn't even know what "levántese" _meant._

"Can you speak in _English _please?" Maureen whined. "I thought you were going to speak in English if I took your stupid job." She knew it was hopeless, though. Mimi always woke everyone up in Spanish. She just loved the frustrated looks on people's faces as they battled sleep deprivation and the language barrier at the same time.

"Hablaré en inglés cuando usted se levanta," Mimi replied. God only knew what she was saying. She continued to yank on Maureen's arm, rambling on in Spanish all the while.

Maureen sighed as she reluctantly got out of bed.

As Maureen stood up, she was surprised to see her clothes laid out on the floor for her.

"Come on," Mimi urged her, "You need to get ready for work!"

Maureen rolled her eyes, "You didn't happen to get me a cup of coffee too, did you?"

"What do you I think I am, your slave?" she asked. "Now come on, get moving," she ordered, slapping Maureen's backside before going off to wake Roger. Not even an alarm clock could stir that boy.

"IF YOU UTTER ONE MORE WORD IN THAT WRETCHED LANGUAGE!" she heard Roger scream three minutes later. She would've laughed if she hadn't been in that situation only minutes before. She finished dressing, and poured some coffee for herself into a Styrofoam cup that she could take with her.

Before Maureen could get out of the loft, Mimi was screaming after her.

"Mo! Don't forget, tonight's your first night at the Cat Scratch!"

"Joy," she replied, sliding the door open.

"Well don't act too excited," Mimi replied. Maureen could hear the pout in her voice. "Aren't you glad we get to work together?"

Maureen turned around and gave Mimi a sincere smile, "I'm glad we'll be together...it's the working part I'm not so fond of. Those bars are usually swimming in smoke." Maureen was terrified that smoke would make her voice scratchy and end her performing days.

Mimi rolled her eyes, "You and your precious voice will get over it," she replied.

Maureen shrugged as she started to walk down the hall.

"Plus!" Mimi shouted after her, "they'll be plenty of nearly naked women around!"

Maureen nearly choked on her coffee.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: OK, I know it's been about a month since I updated, but bear with me. I haven't given up yet!

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The loft door slid closed behind her as Maureen walked in, reeking of perfume. She had managed to hold the bottle the wrong way at least four times, successfully spraying perfume in her face instead of on the customers, arousing some laughter from the latter. The odor had been giving her a splitting headache for the past few hours, and she was looking forward to washing it off of her, as she headed for the bathroom She swung the door open without knocking, desperate for relief, and found Mimi brushing her teeth in front of the grimy mirror.

"Sorry," she muttered when the other woman jumped.

"It's ok," she replied, clenching the toothbrush with her teeth while she put her hair up. She pulled it out of her mouth, took a swig of water, and, after swishing it around in her mouth for a substantial time, spat it out. "I'm done," she told Maureen once she'd recapped the toothpaste and returned the brush.

"Kay," she replied, sliding by Mimi, and heading for the closet to get some fresh towels and a washcloth.

"What are you doing?"

Maureen looked up to see Mimi in the archway, eyeing the towels in her hands. Maureen looked down at them herself and then back at Mimi. "I was gonna take a shower..."

"Uh uh," Mimi said, swiping up the towels from a confused Maureen, "No, no, no."

"Mimi, I smell like jasmine or lavender or whatever the hell kind of perfume I was spraying today," she protested, reaching for the linens Mimi was clutching behind her back.

"We have to leave for work in fifteen minutes. You take a half hour shower," Maureen groaned, "At minimum."

"Mimi I don't think I can go tonight," Maureen pleaded, giving her the best pout she could.

"Don't give me that," Mimi retorted, throwing the towels at her, "Now brush your teeth, fix your make up, do whatever you can to pretty up in fifteen minutes."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

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Twenty minutes later, the two were headed for the Catscratch club, Mimi skipping and singing, and Maureen shuffling her feet. Mimi turned around to skip backwards, and rolled her eyes at the sight of Maureen, who turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact.

"God, you really are a drama queen, aren't you?" when the diva didn't respond, Mimi heaved a sigh, skipped over to her, and grabbed her hand.

"C'mon," she urged, linking her arm with Maureen's, "skip with me!"

Maureen freed her arm, and stormed away from Mimi, who quickly followed her, linking arms again once she caught up. She began to skip, singing, "We're OFF to see the Wizard! The wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

"I'll kill you."

"Oh, stop it Maureen!" Mimi whined, "What are you, the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Are you drunk?"

"I might've had a beer or two," she giggled, before hopping off.

She continued skipping and singing, and Maureen couldn't help but smile. She was gonna have to make the best of this.

"I'll get you my pretty!" she cackled, running after Mimi, "and your little dog too!"

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When the door to the strip club opened, the first thing Maureen saw was a very busty woman on stage, wearing only a thong and a bra skimpier than her own, dancing with a man she pulled out of the audience. The guy looked like a Mark type, skinny with glasses, and seemed terrified.

"See?" Mimi said, elbowing Maureen, "it's not THAT bad."

"Joanne would die if she knew I was working here," Maureen replied looking at all the scantily clad women.

"Well, then this is for you to know and her to never find out," Mimi said, a perfect solution in her mind. "Now, the bar is over there," she told her, pointing to the right, "I have to go change, so you'll be seeing me later."

"Can't wait," she said, starting over to the bar.

There was one other woman working there, a pretty blonde wearing a hot pink mini skirt and a too tight black tank top.

"Hi," Maureen said as she stepped behind the counter. She stuck her hand out, "I'm Maureen."

The other woman looked at Maureen's hand for a second, as if wondering what to do with it. Finally, she stuck her own hand out and shook Maureen's. "Mitsi," she said.

Maureen smiled, and, after releasing the handshake, noticed a diamond ring on the bartender's left hand. "Engaged?" she asked, pointing to the ring when Mitsi seemed confused.

"Oh, that," she replied, twisting the piece of jewelry on her finger, "I was, he dumped me for this girl he met years ago in high school...I still wear it out of habit."

Maureen nodded with understanding, "I just broke up with my girlfriend, Joanne."

"I'm sorry," Mitsi replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Me too."

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"You need to get out."

Joanne looked up from the computer at her friend, Stacie, who had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot. That was her angry pose.

Stacie was a vibrant redhead with blue eyes as bright as her personality. She stood at about six feet tall, but was hardly ever seen without heels, which could make her as high as six feet five inches. Her style of clothing was like nothing Joanne had ever seen before, and would most likely never see again. The outfit she was currently sporting included a pastel purple shirt, exploding with orange polka dots, accompanied by a black and white striped skirt. Lime green heels added three inches to her height, and yellow hoops big enough to stick your hand through dangled from her ears, paired with a matching yellow bandana. And, as always, the whole ensemble was topped off with her thick, black glasses, adding color to her frighteningly pale face.

Many times, Joanne would gaze in wonder at her unique friend, and ponder just how a pair so obscenely different ended up as best friends. Then she reminded herself that her very girlfriend- _ex_-girlfriend...was Maureen Johnson, and supposed that maybe opposites did attract. Still, the more she looked at Stacie, the more she looked like she should be Maureen's irritating friend, and not her own.

"What I need to do is finish my work," Joanne replied, returning to the keyboard.

Stacie pulled up a chair and sat next to Joanne. "Sweetie your work is done. It's been done. You've been proofreading for the past two hours."

Joanne glared at her. "You can't be too careful."

"Oh yes you can," Stacie argued, grabbing Joanne's arm and pulling her up to a standing position. "Look," she said, grabbing Joanne's face and making her look her in the eye, "If you miss her so much, why don't you call her?"

"Miss who?" she asked, knowing exactly who her friend was speaking of.

Stacie rolled her eyes. "Maureen."

Joanne bit her lip. This breakup had been so much different and so much more painful than previous ones. In every split they had prior to this, Maureen would be begging for forgiveness no more than a week later. Joanne would come home to several messages on her machine, all from a pleading Maureen, swearing that "this time would be different."

This time, however, it had already been three weeks. Three long weeks without so much as a note from Maureen. Joanne was beginning to wonder if her ex-girlfriend had finally moved on.

"I don't miss her," she lied.

Stacie heaved a sigh, "Baby, you haven't been out of this apartment for anything other than work since you broke up with her," she rubbed her forehead in frustration, "Why'd you even break up with her if you're still so crazy about her."

Joanne thought about that for a second. Why _had_ she broken up with Maureen? "She was too irresponsible," she recalled, thinking back to that night she'd come home drunk, "She wasn't ready to settle down, and I am."

"Oh don't give me that," Stacie replied, going to sit down on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Joanne asked, sitting next to her.

"You didn't dump Maureen because you don't think she's the person you want to settle down with."

Joanne looked at her quizzically, "Well, why _did _I dump her then?"

"You're afraid she's gonna leave you," Stacie replied, grinning.

Joanne muttered something inaudible before putting her feet up and turning the television on to her favorite crime drama.

"No, no, no," Stacie shot at her, snatching the remote, "You're not staying in tonight." Then Stacie got this bright look on her face, like a light bulb going off in her head. "I know exactly where I'll take you!" she exclaimed, jumping off the couch and grabbing her coat. She pulled the bandana she was wearing off her head and went to tie it around Joanne's head, who smacked her hand away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she spat at her giddy friend.

"Oh just go along with it you sour puss," she demanded sitting on top of her, "It's surprise." Joanne groaned with annoyance, yet sat obediently as Stacie tied the bright bandana around her eyes.

"Now lemme help you put your coat on," she said, sliding Joanne's arms into the sleeves of her trench coat, "and just hang on to me, alright? I won't let you get hurt."

"Do I have any other choice?"

"Nope."

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It was raining outside. Cold, sharp rain came down steadily. Not a downpour, but not a drizzle either.

"Stacie, where in the _hell_ are you taking me?" Joanne whined, after stepping in the umpteenth puddle, soaking her slacks yet again.

"O just shut up and enjoy the ride," Stacie replied, yanking on Joanne's arm, "And pick up the pace."

Joanne groaned. She had insisted to Stacie that they take a cab, or at least a subway. Stacie had brushed off the notion, however, claiming that walking in freezing rain on the puddle-laden New York City streets would be "funner."

"Besides," Stacie had told her, "You'd look silly on a subway station, wearing a blindfold and all."

Joanne found it amazingly ironic for Stacie to be lecturing her about looking silly, but kept her mouth shut.

"And we're here!" Stacie exclaimed, dramatically swiping the bandana from Joanne's face, revealing the flashing lights of the Catscratch Club. "Whaddaya think?" Stacie asked with a bright smile lining her face, as she replaced the bandana around her head.

Joanne shook her head. "No," she said firmly, turning around to hail a taxi cab. She needed to go home. To lie down, and wallow in her feelings, and be very far away from her crazy friend. Or any human being for that matter.

"Oh come on," Stacie protested, grabbing each of Joanne's arms and pulling her back. "It'll be fun."

"Stacie," Joanne tried to reason, turning around and facing her heterosexual comrade, "you don't want to be here."

"And why not?" she asked, looking at Joanne through her thick framed glasses quizzically.

"Stace, all the strippers are women. No guys."

"Oh well," Stacie replied, shrugging the comment off, "this is your night anyway. Plus, there's still the bar, which I hear has great prices."

Joanne groaned, and pulled her friend back as she started to walk into the club. "Stacie, I really cannot go in there."

"Stop being so anti-fun Joanne!" her eccentric companion whined, "You used to go to strip clubs all the time in college with that friend of yours what's-his-face."

Joanne grimaced, "It's not the fact that it's a strip club...it's just...I have a friend who works here."

Stacie studied Joanne with a completely dumbfounded expression on her face. "Joanne Jefferson...is friends with a..._stripper_?"

Joanne tried to think of a reasonable explanation for being acquainted with the dancer, but the best thing she could come up with was that she was Maureen's ex-boyfriends roommate's girlfriend, which didn't clear up much. "She's...well, she's Mimi," she finally stated, trying to make it as simple as possible, "Remember I told you about my friend Mimi?"

"The one who almost died that one Christmas?" Stacie asked offhandedly, the thought that bringing up the near death experience of Joanne's friend being upsetting not occurring to her.

Joanne sucked in a deep breath, remembering that painful fall, "Yes, that one."

Suddenly, without warning, Stacie burst into laughter. "I just can't believe that serious lawyer Joanne is friends with a stripper," she sputtered, holding on to her gut.

Joanne rolled her eyes, "Well, there's much more to her than that. I've never seen her at work anyway."

Stacie grinned. "I'm sure..." she muttered.

"Jesus..." Joanne mumbled, rubbing her temples and walking away. She loved Stacie, well, most times anyway, but sometimes she could really be too much. Wasn't the whole purpose of dragging her out tonight to cheer her up? So far, it'd been just the opposite.

Stacie heaved a heavy sigh, "You really need to lighten up. Come on, let's go in, get a few drinks, and see if your friend's working. It'll be a first."

"Stacie I think I need to-"

But before she could finish, Stacie had already grabbed her arm and dragged her into the club. "Now c'mon," she urged, smacking Joanne's ass with the hand that wasn't clinging to her arm, making sure she wouldn't run away, "Let's go get a drink, m'kay?"

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So far, the night had been all but insufferable for Maureen. The cloud of smoke surrounding the bar seemed perpetual, and only got thicker if anything, not to mention men continued making passes on her. One drunken man had tried to grab her breasts, pretending to reach for his drink, and she smacked his hand away. Another man, who seemed perfectly sober, grinned when he saw her and asked, "Honey, what're you doing down here? You'd make much more money dancing." Maureen simply rolled her eyes at him and asked what he'd like. When he responded by asking her name, she sighed and asked Mitsi to take the order.

The bar was pretty empty now, so she sat on her stool, tapping her fingernails on the counter, and glanced at the clock. She still had a good two hours before she could go home.

It was then, when her eyes drifted from the clock that she saw Joanne walk in with an unmistakable redhead clinging to her arm. Stacie. She had become good friends with her when she dated Joanne, and it was virtually impossible to miss her brightly colored hair and her towering height. Maureen tried to calm down, telling herself that they were here as friends, when, just before dragging her off to the bar, Stacie smacked Joanne on the ass.

She didn't understand. She and Stacie had gotten along great in the past...why would she do this? Who would do that to a friend? Maureen couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't always been something going on.

"Mitsi!" Maureen hissed under her breath, shaking her co-worker who was all but asleep in her chair.

"What?" she asked, shaking drowsiness from her head, and turning to Maureen.

"Look over there," Maureen whispered nodding her head in the direction of her ex, accompanied by her new companion, "See the redhead?"

Mitsi squinted, scanning the club, then nodded when her eyes rested on the woman fitting Maureen's description. "What about her?"

"That chick she's dragging is my ex-girlfriend...Mits, I need you to pretend that you're with me, ok?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I can do that."

"Okay, just act natural, like we're having a conversation, then, when they're close enough to see, kiss me."

Mitsi nodded, and the two of them engaged in a conversation about what they thought the woman currently dancing was named. Every few seconds, Maureen would glance over to see how close Joanne and Stacie were, waiting for the perfect time. When Maureen saw Joanne's jaw drop, she knew the lawyer had spotted her. She winked at Mitsi, who then leaned in for a kiss, which Maureen gladly returned.

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Joanne's heart stopped.

"Stacie, let's go."

Stacie shook her head, dragging her to the bar, "Not gonna happen. I'm your girlfriend, okay Joanne? Just play along, and let me do the talking."

Joanne nodded, swallowing her tears, and reluctantly following her escort.


End file.
